


The Auto-Corrective Nature of Time

by sareliz



Series: The Chronicles of Avalon [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Strong Women And The Men Who Love Them, Write the Fic You Want to Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:09:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23908249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sareliz/pseuds/sareliz
Summary: Hermione tries one more time to explain the situation to her parents before obliviating them. In what follows, we see where Hermione gets her strength, fortitude, iron will, razor sharp mind, fierce protective nature, profound courage, and capacity to dowhatever it takes.From her parents.This is a recursive fanfic, in a parallel universe to the fic Debts of Honor which I have also written, which it may help to read first. Then again, this could stand alone. Alternatively, you could read this first. Time, you see, is self-correcting. Rating is for lemon in first chapter.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Viktor Krum
Series: The Chronicles of Avalon [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1723333
Comments: 27
Kudos: 82





	1. Wherein Hermione Chooses Wisely

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linusmir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linusmir/gifts), [MisoSoupy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisoSoupy/gifts).



_April 12, 1997  
_ _London, UK_

_My dearest and most trusted friend,_

_I need your help. I need it immediately, and in person. If you’re willing, come as quick as you’re able and send me a patronus to tell me where you are. I’ll come find you._

_Sending this the fastest way I can manage,  
_ _Myon_

* * *

Hermione was pacing in her parents’ kitchen while her mother made tea.

“That part, I’m not worried, about,” her father was saying. “It’s Harry we’ve got to consider, here. Dumbledore has him brainwashed--”

But the looked for bright animal of light bounded into the room and its sheer presence defied conversation to continue. It was a gigantic dog, of the sort Hermione knew Viktor’s family bred. She’d never actually _seen_ his patronus before, but it could belong to no one else.

_“Myon. Leicester Portkey Station.”_

And then it bounded away.

Hermione’s wide eyes met her mother’s determined ones. 

“You have everything?” Helen Granger asked, her voice strong.

Hermione nodded spasmodically and clutched a brand new black beaded purse in one hand, her wand in the other.

“You remember our two rendezvous points? And the emergency back up plan?”

Hermione nodded again.

“Good luck, and be careful.”

“We love you, Hermione. And we’re going to make this right. Together,” her father said, looking her directly in the eye.

“Together,” she affirmed, just before she disapparated into the previously investigated portkey station, which was the primary English port for Bulgaria.

Oh, she hated apparition so much.

* * *

What Viktor expected, he wasn’t entirely sure. War, certainly, or perhaps only a prelude to war. But today was Easter for the western Church, and Palm Sunday in the Orthodox Church, and so it was an appropriate moment, perhaps, for a calm before the storm.

And certainly, the Leicester Portkey Station was calm.

He stood a little away from his parents who were a shade too young to have dealt with Grindelwald’s terror, but old enough not to have avoided the fallout in the next generation.

How she would come, he did not know, but he had his wand out, idly tapping it against his leg as if he hadn’t a care in the world as he scanned the few people coming out of the floo entry, and out of the apparition zone.

And then she was there and he couldn’t help that his heart did a little flip, because she seemed whole and hale, but his parents had prepared him for this. It might be someone polyjuicing her. Happily, his parents had a healthy paranoia and a deep potions cabinet, among other things.

He put his wand away and palmed instead the slim vial of Thief’s Downfall that was in his coat pocket. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that his father was reading a newspaper and his mother was examining her perfect nails. They were unconcerned tourists, waiting for their side-along valet, and clearly nothing more.

His mother specialized in bespoke charms work and something she had made years ago was coming in handy today. Possibly.

But once Hermione saw him, she rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck.

“Viktor!” she breathed into his neck and even not knowing if it was really her the action still made his stomach drop and his cock twitch. But now was clearly not the time. “I’m so glad you’ve come. Thank you.”

She let go of him and took his hand as if to pull him back to the apparition zone, but he stayed firm and ended up pulling her back instead, and pulling her in for another hug.

“Not so fast, Myon. Will you consent to verify you are truly Hermione?”

She squeezed him tighter and seemed somehow to relax. “Anything. Yes. Name it.”

“Let me pour something on your hand,” he whispered against her ear.

She let go enough to put her hand between them. He poured the clear potion directly on her skin while looking in her eyes and there was no flicker, nothing. He pocketed the vial with a sigh of relief.

“My parents have come with me,” he said. “They will follow wherever you take me.”

She sighed and it seemed in relief as well. “Oh, good. That makes things easier.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek but then turned away out of his arms and pulled him along to the apparition zone, not giving him any time at all to contemplate the first kiss she’d ever given him.

* * *

“Well that’s all fine and large but I don’t think you should take a leave of absence, Viktor. It will only draw attention to irregularity in your routine. Rather it should all be business as usual for you and to the greatest extent possible, your family. From everything we’ve been told, neither of the kings on this chessboard from hell are really ready to make their move. They’re still all setting up their dominos and yes I mixed those metaphors on purpose, Hermione,” her father said with a smirk in her direction.

“I agree with William,” Madam Krum said and Viktor’s hand spasmed in hers. She looked over and up into his dark eyes and saw something she couldn’t quite translate, except that she seemed to feel it deep inside of her, and it answered an ache inside of her she knew the name of quite well.

“I…” Viktor began to say, looking at her and speaking quietly. He took a deep breath and seemed to gather his courage. “May I speak with you alone for a moment, Myon?”

Hermione’s eyes darted around, though she wasn’t quite looking for her parent’s blessing, she certainly got their encouragement.

She got up and silently led him out into the back garden. She had heavily warded everything, of course.

He took her hand in his, and then her other so he held both of hers in both of his. “Myon I… First I tell you this. I am so glad you called to me. I am honored to be helping you. And I think, I think this is a good plan.

"Myon,” he said, and here his voice cracked. “My heart aches to think of you going back to that place. And yet I know you must for a few more months. _But Myon,”_ he said and at the last it was a breathed whisper. _“I love you so much, Myon,”_ he whispered, his voice catching.

Hermione’s eyes were wide and yet somehow, somehow this was not a surprise. He was the only one she could call to, he was the only one who would understand, who would take her seriously, who might be able to help. And somehow, somehow, that he _loved_ her just fit. Like it always belonged there.

Did she love him? It was a question she asked her heart, and her heart responded, _Of course._ Of course. That’s why she was always so comfortable. That’s why she always trusted him so implicitly. She’d fantasized about him more than once, but now clearly wasn’t the time for _that._

Or was it?

She smiled at him. It was not a radiant smile, or a blinding smile. Her world, after all, was on the verge of total redemption or utter collapse. This could end with them all dying. This could end with them failing everyone else. But it had a better chance of success than her previous and utterly mad plan, back when she was seriously considering obliviating her parents.

Hermione took a deep breath and gathered her courage around her. “It’s possible I fell in love with you a little more every time you wrote to me,” she said, easily forgetting her complicated non-relationship with the penultimate Weasley, and her mis-fire of a kiss with Cormac both of which obviously didn’t count for anything except the Mistake Tally Board. “It was easy to think it wouldn’t go anywhere, us being so far apart. But I’m… beginning to rethink that now.”

Viktor’s face was glowing with his happiness. “You love me?” he asked, his voice filled with wonder at the prospect, and it made her grin widely, finally.

She nodded and smiled. “I love you, Viktor Krum.”

“Vhen… When this is over, will you marry me?”

Hermione’s eyes went round again. “Yes,” she breathed out, and hardly knew she’d done it. _Sooner than that,_ she thought, but couldn’t manage to say. Instead she flexed her fingers so he would let go of her hands and she wrapped her arms around his neck, stepping in so close to him. He was bigger than she remembered and she had remembered all too often what it had felt like to dance with him, to have his breath on her neck, his hands on her waist. They had waltzed, they had rocked out, they had danced exactly one slow dance where he just held her tightly as they swayed gently back and forth.

And he was definitely broader, now. More heavily muscled underneath all of these clothes. Stronger arms. And, oh. Oh, he smelled amazing. It wasn’t a cologne, it was just _him._ She tilted her head up and pressed herself against him, relishing the feeling of his hands on her back. Her sigh was audible and when she momentarily shivered she felt directly afterwards a flood of warmth slide over her body.

_Had he just done a wandless, wordless warming charm for her? He had, hadn’t he?_

“Kiss me,” she whispered up to him, and he bent his head down and kissed her lips for the very first time. He brushed against them once, twice, and on the third time he caught Hermione licking her own lips. Which turned into Hermione licking Viktor’s lips. And Viktor licking Hermione’s lips. And then each tongue licked the other tongue and gasps followed shortly thereafter.

When Hermione groaned into his mouth, his body trembled. And that was somehow the sexiest thing yet.

“See?” he gasped against her lips. “This is why I want to take a leave of absence, too. To have you in my home safe and sound and yet to leave, to spend only a few sweet moments with you over dinner and coffee and then away to our separate and lonely beds and then me to work all day. Never a moment alone, never a time to drink kisses straight from your mouth.”

No, no that was certainly not ideal. Very quickly, however, Hermione came up with a plan.

“You must go to work,” she insisted, pulling back but still with her arms around his neck. “And you must train well and fly well. You _must_ Viktor. But none of the rest follows. First, I will drown you in kisses,” she said, watching his eyes round in the dim light. “Second, I will guarantee that we will have time alone, as well as time together with our family. And third, though I doubt it will be necessary by that point, I will sneak into your bed at night. It may not be about sex, or not always about sex, but we will have the closeness we need to stay sane, Viktor. Why torture ourselves otherwise?”

He clutched her in a tight embrace, murmuring his nickname for her. Murmuring his love for her.

“There are certain magics, if we choose to wait until our wedding night…”

He trailed off, but frankly Hermione was uninterested. “No. But thank you for asking. Unless you absolutely insist on them, no. We’re in the middle of a war and I’m frankly not certain I’m even willing to wait until the end of it. God only knows when that will be. I’m open to contraceptive use because this is _really_ not the time to bring a child into the world. But Viktor, you came. When I needed you, you came, and you brought reinforcements. You took every reasonable precaution. I chose you then, and I see I was completely right to choose you. And I choose you now.”

He kissed her then, his mouth slashed over hers, his arms tight around her waist. When he came up for air, he spoke reverently against her lips. “I will not fail you, Myon. I will play hard and well and no one will ever know. As a lover I may not be particularly exciting, but I will learn diligently those things that please you and do them often, I promise you. And as a husband, I promise to love and support you all your days, until my last breath.”

She peppered kisses all across his cheekbones and down one side of his jaw. “I love you, Viktor. I love you. Now come on. Let’s go back inside and see how much convincing your parents need in order to stay the night.”

Not much, as it turned out, and they had already made the decision and both fathers were out of the room ostensibly setting up the guest room when Viktor and Hermione had returned.

“It’s getting late, and we’ll all feel better after a good night’s sleep. Sofia and Gregor have agreed to stay the night and have already reinforced the wards on the house, Hermione. You won’t need to worry about that,” Helen Granger said. “I presume you would prefer Viktor stay with you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione responded formally.

“Will you allow Sofia to perform a birth control charm on you?” her mother asked quite frankly and without embarrassment. It was so clear now why there were no fathers in the room.

“Yes, please,” Hermione answered and turned to Viktor’s mother. Meanwhile she could feel him stepping up behind her and gently resting his hands on her hips. Then she turned her head back to her mother when the spell was finished. “Viktor’s asked me to marry him. I said yes,” she explained quietly.

“So we saw,” her mother said, smirking. “Breakfast is at eight.”

“Forego your morning run, Viktor, but do cast a ward for silence this evening,” his mother added, looking smug.

They said their goodnights quickly enough and negotiated bathroom use and Hermione laid out an extra toothbrush for him and when Hermione led him to her bedroom she stopped dead at the door.

The room was larger. The bed was larger. So _that’s_ what Gregor Krum was doing up here. She shook it off and stepped inside, closing the door softly behind Viktor. When she turned toward him, he had his wand out and his eyes closed and was quietly intoning a charm, but not a Latin-based one. Probably for silence. When he was finished, he put his wand on the nearest bedside table and turned back to her. With a hand outstretched toward her, it was easy to come into the circle of his arms again and be held there.

“It doesn’t have to be about sex tonight, Myon,” he said.

She looked up at him. “Yes, it does. I wont see you for months. I still have to convince Harry to run away with us. I have to go back to that _place._ And how long will you stay here? A single night? Two? No, I’m quite clear that it’s time for some of my fantasies to come true in order to fortify me for the journey ahead. Yours, too, of course. I mean, if you’ve thought of me like that. Which you haven’t mentioned, so maybe not.”

Viktor was staring at her wide-eyed. “You have fantasized about me?” he whispered, and Hermione couldn’t quite make out whether he was happily surprised or unpleasantly shocked.

“Yes?” she tentatively answered. “Have… have you? About me?”

 **_“YES!”_ **he said growling and dropping his head to her neck where he proceeded to leave fiery kisses while his neatly trimmed facial hair scritched at her skin in a fashion she never imagined could be erotic. “I have no stamina, Myon, but I promise to bring you such pleasure, my beautiful one.”

Hermione’s brow crinkled in confusion as she thought about his words. He was an athlete with no stamina? That didn’t sound right. She asked. He blushed. He stammered and eventually sat down on the edge of the bed and then _pulled her to sit on top of him._

After several deep breaths and many more gentle kisses, Viktor opened his eyes. He was still blushing and he looked somehow sweetly adorable and ragingly hot at the same time. Then he closed them again and clenched them tightly shut. “Shall I tell you how intensely I desire you, Myon? How it overwhelms my senses and always has since we first met? A man can learn to withhold his orgasm, to wait for the pleasure of his partner to catch up with him, but this is not the natural way of a man.”

And here he paused. 

“What is the natural way for men?” Hermione asked softly, unbuttoning his shirt and revealing such stunningly beautiful pale skin she could almost cry for the perfection of it.

“To be ready for sex instantly. To be able to finish immediately. Stamina is required to draw this out, to be able to, hm, is softer word for sex?”

“Make love,” she supplied. “To or with, depending on active participation, I suppose.”

“Yes, is good. Stamina is required to make love all night. Stamina is also required to… sustain harder… you will permit me the use of vulgarities?”

She grinned. “I think I’m going to like your use of vulgarities, Viktor.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and smiled slightly. “Myon? You _want_ me to be vulgar?”

She wiggled on his lap. “Viktor. Please. Your grasp of English is impressive. Your words are beautiful and eloquent and the image of you drinking kisses from my mouth is going to get me through the next two months without you. The idea of you being vulgar while talking about sex, or perhaps during sex,” she wiggled again. “Oh, God, Viktor. It makes _me_ want to be vulgar and tell you how wet you make me. How much I ache for you.”

He groaned and started pulling her shirt up, untucking it from her jeans until he could rest his hot, calloused hands on the bare skin of her stomach and back, underneath her garment.

 _“Fuck, Myon,”_ he breathed out against her neck, his face buried there again. _“Fuck, I’m so hard for you. I’ve wanted you for so long. I was going to wait until you graduated to try and court you properly. I swear I was going to do this right.”_

“We are doing this right, Viktor,” she said, continuing to unbutton his shirt, peeking as best she could as she did so and holy shit his chest was ripped. Oh, and his abs. Oh, God, his whole body was going to be solid muscle, wasn’t it? Hermione swallowed lest she begin to drool.

 _“Myon, oh, oh, fuck, you’re so beautiful, your skin is so soft, oh, oh, fuck,”_ and then he threw his head back and Hermione pushed his shirt over his shoulders and down his arms slightly and pressed her hand to his chest and felt his heat and his skin and his love. Viktor half chanted, half growled the word _fuck_ three times in rapid succession, his body otherwise unmoving, but Hermione could feel him pulsing beneath her leg.

His shoulders sagged then, and his head came to rest on her shoulder, his hands unmoving from her skin.

“See?” he panted, his hot breath baiting her. “No stamina. A single thought of you is enough to start making me hard. And then if I focus on a memory, a thought, anything about you for just a little bit and I come so good. And it happens over and over again since first I met you.”

Hermione blinked. “Wait, at Hogwarts, or at the World Cup?”

“World Cup. But also Hogwarts,” he groaned.

Hermione blinked harder, letting her fingers explore his chest and his shoulders, paying fairly decent attention to where he hissed and where he was silent. After a moment she spoke. “Are you saying that you wanted to nail me the first time we met in the Top Box at the Quidditch World Cup, after which you were bleeding heavily and quite grumpy looking?”

“Was only grumpy until I stared at you for a while. Then was suppressed desire and embarrassment for getting so hard and coming so instantly. Happily I can do many spells wandless, including cleaning charm. And you fixed my nose. And then was not bleeding any more. Wanted to give you many years worth of orgasms as thanks. Could not even manage to introduce myself and get your name. See? Ample cause to be grumpy. Very reasonable.”

“And then at Hogwarts?”

He groaned again. “So many private little spots. Wanted to take you into the forest and have you up against a tree. Wanted to sneak you onto my ship and kiss you everywhere I dared. Wanted to sit with you at meals and feed you interesting morsels off my plate and let my fingers linger at your lips while I fucked you with my eyes. Wanted to kiss you in the library, little stolen kisses and rather deeper ones. Wanted you to sit on one of the chairs in the back stacks while I kneel before you and bring you sweet, silent pleasure with my tongue between your thighs.”

Hermione’s eyes blew wide.

“And instead, could barely speak to you. Was idiot child, but at least we spoke some, and you let me study with you some. We walked around the lake a few times, and you came with me to the ball. And then you wrote to me, Myon, so faithfully, so beautifully, and I began to hope that perhaps you would allow me to court you in time.”

Hermione pulled her shirt off and suddenly remembered her scar. Viktor sucked in his breath and his hand ghosted over the ugly purple thing that bisected her torso and ran between her breasts almost all the way to her collarbone. 

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” she assured him. It hadn’t for at least a month, now.

He breathed her name and gently held her as he twisted until she was laying on the bed. He tenderly finished undressing her, kicking off his shoes but leaving the rest of his clothes as they were, including his shirt which hung open enticingly - and oh, God, his stomach was perfect and the only hair on his torso was the happiest of trails leading down to a treasured part of his anatomy she would be meeting very soon. But at the present moment he was kissing her and casting silent warming charms over her and Hermione was sighing in pleasure.

He took his time kissing and touching and licking and biting all over Hermione’s body until she was shivering and shaking and moaning his name and when he finally spread her legs and crouched between them, lavishing her inner thighs with love and attention, Hermione was tied up in knots of desire, begging him to get on with it. When finally his fingers started rubbing at her labia she almost sobbed in relief. He groaned when he tasted her and she swallowed a scream at the feel of his tongue lapping at her pussy.

“Myon,” he moaned, looking up slightly. “You taste so good. I love this part of you. Is like feast, or garden.”

Hermione put one hand on his head and pushed him back down gently but firmly. “Too much talking. Not enough licking.”

Viktor laughed into her pussy and licked her into an orgasm and then lingered there, his head resting on her thigh as she calmed down. After a little rest he started again with gentle touches until questing fingers delved deep inside of her, stretching her wider and meanwhile his lips were sucking on the head of her clit. She came again, screaming his name and clutching his head and she could feel his moans vibrating through her core. When she came down again he rested his head on her thigh and her hand rested on top of it, idly stroking his much longer black hair, slightly curly, very messy at present, and so, so sexy.

“This time,” he said eventually, his breath mingling with the heat of her core. “This time I… Hm. English word for male body part? Not derogatory, nor anatomical?”

“Cock.”

“Cock?” his tone conveyed his confusion.

“Cock,” she reassured him.

“Language,” he muttered. “This time, I ease very slowly my cock into you. I am big and you are small, but with gentleness, we will fit. If it hurts, you tell me to wait, yes? And I go slower and gentler?”

Hermione smiled and sat up to help him undress which was a delightful endeavor. He’d kicked his shoes off and with the shirt gone and the trousers off, it was just his wand sheath to remove on his right arm. He wore no underpants of any variety, but her eyes were drawn to the large, heavy cock bobbing horizontally at eye level. Well, it seemed large. She really had no basis of comparison. It was rather pretty, though. She reached out to touch it gently with a finger tip and jerked back when he gasped.

“Bad?” she asked.

“So good,” he said, his voice cracking.

She grinned. “Before you ease your cock into my pussy ever-so-slowly, Viktor, I’d really like you to lay down and let me play. I’ve never seen a cock before and I’m rather excited to get to know yours.”

He groaned but immediately laid down across the bed, his arms stretched out wide. “I am yours,” he proclaimed. “I only warn you. With your hands on me, I will come, and then we will have to wait a little before next round.”

“Will that be a problem?” Hermione asked, wondering if she should rethink her plan.

Viktor barked out a single ironic laugh. “No. I am twenty-year-old wizard. I can still come three times in rapid succession. Is not problem.”

She grinned and then put both hands on his muscled thighs which were lightly covered with hair. Viktor hissed. “How often have you imagined me sucking your cock, Viktor?”

He whined, but answered. “Daily. At least. For years. So. A few thousand times.”

She touched it. She stroked it. She held his balls carefully and gently, and then rolled and tugged and nosed them. She licked his cock. She kissed his cock. Finally she sucked the tip into her mouth.

All this while Viktor was clutching at the blankets and making entirely inarticulate sounds of overwhelment in desire. When she let his cock fill her mouth and sucked even harder, he was suddenly quite articulate.

_“FUCK! MYON!”_

He shook and suddenly was sitting up, his shaking hands pulling her hair away from her face and when she looked up she could see him watching so intently it seemed like he was searing it in his memory, and then she had to pay attention again because he was pulsing inside her mouth and it was filling up and she had to figure out what she wanted to do about that.

She decided to swallow, and it wasn’t as bad as she had read about, though she had read that in muggle magazines, so perhaps the difference was with magical people. Or perhaps Viktor ate quite a lot of fruit. Either way it didn’t burn and was just a little odd tasting, not totally off-putting. And in a strange way it tasted like Viktor smelled. Sort of. Not quite.

He was stroking her hair with one hand as she just let him sit in her mouth a little while longer, swallowing the last dregs. She tongued him and cleaned him off and he hissed and moaned.

Viktor leaned back and pulled her with him to curl up half on top of him, half to the side and they both moaned to feel so much naked skin against so much naked skin. He cast two warming charms over her in quick succession, but he himself was a blazing furnace of heat that she was happy to cuddle up to.

“Myon, you are so beautiful, so sexy. I am so happy to be here with you, so happy you will marry me.”

“And so happy to finally be able to pound me into the mattress?” she asked, an eyebrow quirked.

He grinned. “Oh yes. And to feast at your banquet. And to have you drink from me. And to ride me like broomstick.”

“You know I could never get the handle of riding a broomstick.”

“I will be such a good broom. At first. So quiet. So gentle.”

“And then?” she asked with a grin.

His grin was drenched in sex. “And then maybe the ride gets rough. Very bad broom. Very bad boy.”

Both of her eyebrows raised. “And do we punish or reward such a bad boy?”

He groaned and rolled her over so he was above her. “Both.”

One of his hands was cupping her pussy, the other held him propped up just above her on an elbow. A single finger went questing inside of her, and then another and she drew her legs out wider. She wiggled her hands between their hips and to search out his cock which was hard again, and she guided it toward her, accidentally rubbing the tip all around the juicy bits inside her labia majora and they both groaned.

“How- how- how does the bad boy get punished? And rewarded?” she asked, still rubbing the tip of his cock in all sorts of good places.

He groaned as she slipped the tip in. “He gets tied to Myon’s bed. And fucked so hard.”

In and out, in and out, tiny increments that had Hermione desperately wanting more, faster, now.

“Is that all? A good, hard fuck and some rope?” she panted and he buried his face in her neck, from which he responded in a muffled voice.

“Polyjuice. Switch bodies. Such a bad boy.”

In and out. In and out. Deeper and ever-so-slightly deeper.

“Lends new meaning to the phrase, ‘go fuck yourself,’” she admitted, gasping out the words. “I wonder if you’ll be this tight when I push into you with my big hard cock. I wonder if I’ll have any control at all, or if I’ll just come all over you, over and over.

He groaned and shook and paused in his incremental thrusting.

She waited until he started again, and then kept speaking, gasping out words. “Will you learn how to deepthroat my big cock? I understand that takes practice, Viktor. Hours. Hours with my cock in your mouth. Will you just want my fat cock sliding into that sopping wet pussy of yours, because I know you’re going to be so wet for me it’s going to be sliding down your legs, Viktor. Or are you going to want me to ease this huge cock into your tiny arse?”

“Stop!” Viktor gasped, halting his own progress halfway in as well.

Hermione smirked, and said nothing. It was a much longer pause this time, and Viktor spent the majority of it gasping for air. Finally he moved again.

She grinned and groaned as he went deeper in, slightly more each time, slightly faster this time around. And as Viktor started to very decisively fuck her into the mattress, now fully sheathed and stretching her deliciously she was very clear on the fact that she would enjoy being married to such a bad boy, even as early as they would get married, and she took it as recompense for a rather shitty childhood at a rather dangerous school. And before they slept they would have sex another time, and then another in the middle of the night, and then one last time as the sun rose and before they took much needed showers.

That morning Hermione skipped the tea and went straight for the coffee, but the fatigue and the sore muscles were entirely worth it.

The Krums drew out their stay another four days and four nights which were utter bliss in a sea of insanity and it was true that much was planned, down to the most minute details, every single one of them working hard to strategize and spellcast each to their ability, but it was also to give the youngest couple time to bond, time to fuck like bunnies, and time to brace themselves for the dangerous months apart before their summer wedding.


	2. Wherein Harry experiences a change of scenery.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Postcards are sent, and the reader is assured that time does, indeed, self-correct.

Hogwarts did not offer an Easter break to everyone as standard. One had to be actually religious and one had to have an official request from one’s parents, but there were enough this year to run the train and in the few days between the Krum’s visit and the train back to school, Hermione and her parents were very, very busy. 

They bought two sets of seventh year curricula and two sets of NEWT review books. They bought three racing brooms - one standard, and two ‘squib’ brooms which could only work while tethered to a fully functioning one, though they could work chained together, with a fully functioning broom at the forefront. They bought new cauldrons and a full set of standard potions ingredients, plus a few other essentials. They bought on-the-go healers kits. And then at the grocery store they stocked up on soap, toothpaste, toilet paper, bottles of water, protein bars, fruit bars, and mixed nuts, and other things besides.

Sofia was busy before she left and Hermione was no less busy since she’d gone. 

Among other pieces of bespoke charmed artistry the Charms Mistress left in her wake were three sets of boxes. Pretty things, they had held fancy stationery the Grangers had bought for the letters they wrote to their daughter, but they were relatively sturdy, had hinged lids, and while pretty were entirely unexceptional. One set was for Hermione and her parents. One set was for Hermione and Viktor. One set was for the Krums and the Grangers. Each would allow the instant transfer of mail or other items of reduced size from one box to the other.

And Hermione’s masterpiece was her mother’s purse. Her own small beaded bag was a practice piece in comparison. So many additions were done under the tutelage of Sofia, and Hermione was both grateful and in total awe. A lip widening charm. An air freshening charm. A search-defence latch. An anti-theft sticking charm. And more extension charms than frankly Hermione had ever dreamed of. There was a ladder down into a large library, into which all of the Granger’s books had gone, and most of their bookshelves. And two new squashy chairs, and a writing desk. And then there were four other rooms. A small, fully stocked magical kitchen for which Sofia had charmed all the components, and several trips to Tesco had filled to the brim with food. A small bathroom, also with components charmed by Sofia. A mid-sized bedroom with a charmed window and a charmed breeze coming through it. A small room with a few pieces of useful dentistry equipment, along with an old manually operated chair that had once been a curiosity and now might come in quite handy. And hand-held magical lanterns for which Sofia only apologized, as she could do much better with more time.

No one wanted to go on the run. But if it all went pear shaped, they would be prepared, and they would travel lightly.

Sofia only had time to charm one small apartment-sized bag but she promised she would diligently work on another when she returned home, and when it finally arrived, it also arrived from her parents, who had stocked it with food labeled in English, and with pages of explanatory notes from Sofia.

Her mother-in-law had, among other things, taken her measurements before she’d left. And the closet of her new apartment-bag was filled with clothes for both her and Viktor, including a long, black, dragonhide trench coat that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, and a set of matching tall boots. Dragonhide, Hermione read from the note, resisted all charms and spells, including hexes, jinx, and unforgivables. She’d wanted to wear them all the time, but knew she couldn’t wear them at all, not until she changed on the train coming home. It wouldn’t do to stand out and while the coat and boots were incredibly stylish as well as being entirely dead useful, they were also really quite noticeable. The purse matched, of course, the same fulgin black, but it was also just a large floppy bohemian bag that slung over the shoulders and looked mostly empty.

The moment in May when Hermione explored it, she had moved her trunk into the bedroom and unloaded all her books while Harry sat in her library and they discussed the upcoming plan. There had been a second bedroom in her apartment-bag, and it was clearly meant for Harry. That helped cement things for him.

It had taken three weeks of careful build up but Harry finally saw that her, her parents, and the Krums’ plan was better than the ones they’d come up with previously. Harry had written a few times back and forth with her parents, and once with the Krums, and the plan grew even moreso.

The day in May when her parents had reported back to Harry that they secured the Dursleys' permissions, Harry read the letter in the security of Hermione’s apartment-bag (which they had come to call 221b Baker Street for all the skullduggery, or really just Baker Street for short), and when Harry breathed out that he was free, he also just handed the letter over to her.

* * *

_ May 21, 1998  
_ _ The Granger Residence _

_ Dear Harry, _

_ I hope you are keeping well, and again I can’t tell you how relieved we are to know you think this plan has merit and are willing to trust our execution of it. Please know that I have secured the Dursley’s permission for you to travel with us all summer, and granting us ‘in loco parentis’ which I have in writing. I also have a signed copy of a letter removing you from your last year at Hogwarts, which I will keep in reserve should it be necessary. Please know that you are very welcome to stay with us whether we are travelling or staying put, for as long as necessary. _

_ To that end, if you could trust us one step farther, we have a proposition for you. It is very hard for muggle parents to adopt a known wizard or witch through the normal means, but there is one avenue which makes it relatively simple. We haven’t discussed this with Hermione, but we’ve had extensive conversation with the Krums, and our own priest. If you and Hermione were to undertake a blood magic ritual to become siblings, then we would only have to write a document claiming you as our rightfully adopted blood son and second child, and then sign it in blood and have the whole thing witnessed by a wizard or witch who would then also sign in blood. (Our priest, a pure-blood wizard who passes as a muggle, has agreed to be our witness.) It would not need to be registered to be valid and to give us certain rights over decisions concerning your schooling, though we would at some point register it, but perhaps not in this country. _

_ We are willing to do this not just to keep you safe, but because you have been a brother to Hermione, and she does love you entirely and completely, and because you deserve to know you have family, have a home, have people surrounding you who love you and will protect you at all costs. We don’t mean to replace your parents or your godfather. We mean to add to them, in a way like Sofia and Gregor have added Hermione to their hearts. You are in ours, now, whether or not you choose to make it official. _

_ Please consider carefully the proposition and know that even if you refrain, we will still love you and we will still protect you no matter what. _

_ Much love,  
_ _ William & Helen Granger _

* * *

Harry looked up with haunted eyes. “It’s okay. You don’t have to,” he said and his voice was quiet and strained.

Hermione glared at him. “Don’t be thick! Of course I’m going to! It’s a wonderful idea! I love you, Harry Potter, and I’m not going to leave you. Not ever! It’s true love. It’s just not remotely romantic in nature.”

He got up and hugged her then. “I love you, Hermione Granger. And I’m glad I’m going to finally get a little sister.”

She snorted, still hugging him. “I’m the oldest and I always will be. Live with it, little brother.”

“Yeah, but you're shorter. And thus little,” Harry pointed out, already fully embracing the annoying nature of younger siblings world-wide, along with his would-be sister.

* * *

Hermione held him as they both cried, mourning the death of Albus Dumbledore in private, in Baker Street. He was a complicated figure, Dumbledore, not entirely good, and not strictly bad either, and just after his death the so-called Golden Trio had each received gifts from the mysterious figure, though the trio was now just a duo and most people assumed they were finally dating and didn’t want a third wheel. It was a convenient fiction which Ron himself believed and unfortunately Ginny did too, even though Hermione had specifically told her that she was in love with Viktor, not Harry. But their propensity to walk arm-in-arm with their heads bowed together talking quietly had the rest of anyone who noticed quite fooled. When Ron had half-heartedly invited Harry to the Burrow for part of the summer, Harry declined, citing other plans. When he was pushed, he pulled Australia out of the hat. The Grangers were taking him and Hermione… to Australia.

Once that rumor got around, everyone but Luna Lovegood in Ravenclaw was convinced they were somewhere between courting and engaged. But then, no one listened to Loony Lovegood, so their secret was safe.

* * *

Hermione and Viktor wrote each other daily. Hermione claimed it kept her sane. Viktor claimed it was just language practice for when she arrived. But every day for nine weeks, including the day of her long train journey, they wrote. Some letters were amusing. Some were informative. Some contained plots and plans and contingencies. Some discussed arcana, some the mundane. And about every other letter from each one of them was a masterpiece of erotic epistolary literature detailing fantasy and desire, action and reaction, hope and dream. And they went through quite a lot of paper and ink. 

* * *

Harry had a quiet moment with Ginny, with whom he had finally been able to understand he was in love, though whether or not he’d figured that out too late, he wasn’t sure.

“Can I talk to you for a moment?” Harry had asked, his eyes darting around the train.

She raised an eyebrow but nodded and pulled him into one of the train’s lavs which were all equipped with silencing charms. They were a common place for the upper years to have private conversation and less often used for their standard purpose.

She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Look,” he started. “I know I’ve been an arse, okay? And I’m sorry… I didn’t… figure some things out earlier. Erm. So. For the beginning of the summer, I’m going travelling with Hermione’s parents. But she and I, we’re not like  _ that.  _ And the trip, it’s all okayed. But we’re going all muggle, so, um, it’s not like there’ll be owls. So I… wrote you a letter early. Erm. And, ah, the H-headmaster told me things that I don’t think he’s told anyone else. And so I… wrote them all down and I wondered if you would give them to your mother?”

Ginny nodded. Her body language screamed something, and Harry was fairly certain it wasn’t good. 

“It’s all happening isn’t it?” she asked, her eyes darting around.

Harry nodded hesitantly. “But maybe not the way either of them planned.”

“You have a plan. Don’t you? With Hermione? And Ron’s not in it.”

“Yeh,” Harry said, confirming it all.

“He can be stupid about things sometimes,” Ginny commisserated quietly, her words quick and sharp.

“Yeh,” Harry said sadly, considering which of his friends was most likely to think calmly and keep them both alive. Which of his friends was willing to give up everything for him.

“Oh, fuck it,” Ginny said before stepping forward and wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly. Harry dissolved into the kiss and awoke to himself sometime later, different. Her arms were still around his neck and her face was right in front of his. She was looking at him. “If you need me. For anything. You call. And I come.”

He buried his head in her shoulder and sobbed just the one dry sob before pulling himself back together, extracting himself from her and handing over the letters.

“Read the one to your mum if you like. I don’t care who knows. The more the merrier. But let the adults do the heavy lifting. We don’t… actually… need… to be child soldiers,” he said almost on a whisper, almost truly believing it himself.

“Are you running away?” Ginny said, the hurt dawning over her face.

Harry shook his head. “I’m the lynchpin. And I know it. So I’m going to go fix that so we can win the war… and finally kill him. For real this time. And while the masked ones are scattered and busy hunting for me, the Order can quietly do what it needs to do, and with that letter it knows exactly what it needs to do.”

Ginny clutched convulsively at the letters in her hand.

Harry kissed her one last time, and then did not look back.

* * *

It was such a smooth transition, it went off without a single hitch and even standing in the back garden of Viktor Krum’s ancestral home Harry was blinking, wondering if it was true.

A moment before he had been met inside Platform 9 ¾ by the Grangers’ smiling faces. Helen Granger carried one of those large, fashionable leather purses that you could fit everything you could possibly need inside of. In fact, Harry had already put his trunk, broom, and owl in his bedroom at Baker Street, which they had both escaped to in the train’s lav to change their clothes, clothes which the Grangers had sent for him that, for a first in his life outside of his school uniform, fit perfectly. And so when Harry and Hermione walked out to meet  _ their  _ parents, Hermione looked like a rich, famous person incognito in her black leather and jeans, and Harry was content to wear totally new clothes that fit him perfectly, and a canvas trenchcoat that Sofia had bespelled to within an inch of its life.

When they had read off the list of spells Sofia had used on the gift, officially a ‘welcome to the family’ gift, the siblings had joked that it was one spell away from sentience.

There had been hugs on the platform when they’d disembarked the train. And kisses. And it had been a little awkward and also just wonderful.

And then William Granger, still holding onto Harry whispered in his ear,  _ “I always wanted a son.”  _ And Harry was hard pressed to keep the tears at bay.

And when they were ready, Harry with one arm firmly around his father--  _ His other father? His second father? His adopted father? No, no, just his father. And now he had two.  _ And Hermione had an arm firmly around her mother’s waist and they all touched the portkey Sofia Krum had made.

It was the unregistered and therefore highly illegal and entirely unknown international portkey. Not that it bothered Harry in the least.

And the Dursleys weren’t expecting him back. Ever.

And now he was  _ here.  _ In this unplottable, impregnable,  _ rose garden _ guarded by mid-sized bears masquerading as dogs.

Harry watched with a twinge in his heart as Hermione flung herself at Viktor. They didn’t kiss, but then they didn’t have to. All the same, they were clearly having a private moment and their parents gave her a little space, fussing over Harry and asking him if portkeys were always as pleasant as that, or if Hermione perhaps overstated the drama a bit when she had described what travel via portkey felt like.

Mr. and Mrs. Krum emerged from the large stone manor house just as Helen and William were beginning to quiz him on his feelings for the youngest Weasley and he was blushing like mad because he had just admitted that they’d shared a kiss on the train and William -  _ Dad?  _ \- had a hand on his shoulder and grin on his face, and Mum -  _ Helen? -  _ had stars in her eyes and her hands pressed together before her grinning mouth.

As the Krums had declared they could be addressed as Sofia and Gregor or Mama and Papa, Harry just decided to go with it and add another set of parents into the mix. The Krums were easily twenty years older than the Grangers, and it was too weird in Harry’s mind to address them by their first names.

And so Mum and Dad and Mama and Papa ushered Harry in and waved off any concerns he expressed about leaving Hermione and Viktor staring into each other’s eyes and whispering to each other in the garden, at which point he then had two sets of caring parental units inquiring about his interest in Ginerva Adora Weasley, and whether or not he had begun to court her, and what that might entail, because oh, courting, now wasn’t that just fascinating, and dinner would be served soon, and Harry couldn’t actually decide if he was in heaven, or if he just wanted to die of embarrassment.

* * *

A postcard arrived at breakfast and it landed in Ginny’s porridge. It was of a famous statue in Rio de Janeiro, but it was mailed from the wizarding community at Machu Pichu. It was Harry’s handwriting, and it was delivered to his secret-kept, unplottable townhouse in London and so it really was him who sent it. It caused no small amount of furor and was soon snatched out of her hands and analyzed by the Order. But she had memorized it.

> _ ‘Dear Ginny, Thinking of you. Wish you were here. Hermione says hello. I miss you. Love, Harry’ _

* * *

A postcard arrived at breakfast and it landed in Ginny’s eggs. It was of a famous hot spring in Iceland, but it was sent from the wizarding community at Salem in the US. It was Harry’s handwriting, and it was the same thing all over again, from the card that came two weeks earlier.

> _ ‘Dear Ginny, Writing more than I thought. Sorry for the brevity. They say it is the soul of wit. Thinking of you. Wish you were here. Leading a merry chase has its benefits, you know. I miss you. Hermione is buying you presents. Will save them up for you. Love, Harry’ _

* * *

A postcard arrived at breakfast and it landed in Ginny’s orange juice. It was of Ayer’s Rock but was sent from the wizarding community at Omaru, New Zealand. It was Harry’s handwriting, and it was much the same as the card that came two weeks ago.

> _ ‘Dear Ginny, Travel can be tiring. I never knew. Will you come with me, one day? See the world? So much to say, no way to say it. I miss you. I love you. Be careful. They’re getting right swotty, now. Love, Harry.’ _

* * *

No more postcards came at breakfast for Ginny for a long time after that. But when a large feathered bird that looked something like a snake as well flew into the Great Hall on September 3rd and bypassed her but dropped a postcard off into the Headmaster’s toast instead she hid her smirk and kept her eyes averted but glanced over at Neville significantly. There would be things to discuss, later.

* * *

> _ ‘Dear Headmaster, Congratulations on your recent promotion. If you happen to see a Mr. T. Riddle, please do convey to him my fondest regards for his health and happiness, provided they don’t come at anyone else’s expense. Also, I got rid of the horcrux he left in my head, and good riddance. His likelihood of surviving this war has just decreased by one-seventh. You’re welcome, H’ _

* * *

Severus stared hard at his deputy head, who looked ready to kill him, though she had looked that way for several days now, and it didn’t seem like it was going to change much.

He slid the ridiculous queztalcoatl-delivered postcard and its picture of Teotihuacan toward her on the desk and watched her eyes widen, then dart to him, then to the picture of the pyramid, then to him again.

He raised a single eyebrow.

She pulled her wand on the card and did three diagnostic charms fewer than he had done, wandlessly at breakfast.

She turned the card over and her eyes widened further. Then she looked at him with dawning horror.

“You must continue to hate me,” he warned.

Her eyes softened, then hardened again. “Well, you’re much too much of a bastard for anything else these days.”

He smirked in gratitude.

“Minnie, when I die--”

She looked mutinous.

_ “When I die,”  _ he continued with emphasis, “there are things you need to do, and things you need to know. Do you know about the other horcruxes? And how they must be killed? And that he made that great bloody snake into one as well? Bloody idiots. Both bloody idiots. Apparently the only sane one is Harry Potter, so the world has officially gone mad.”

Minerva scoffed. “If you think Harry capable of all this, you’ve gone entirely ‘round the bend, Severus. This is Hermione’s doing, mark my words. And I’ll bet you she has help, though I don’t know whom it could be.”

* * *

A postcard arrived at breakfast and it landed in Ginny’s breakfast sausage. It was of the Kremlin, but it was mailed from the wizarding community at Kiev. It was Harry’s handwriting.

> _ ‘Dear Ginny, Hope all is well ordered. I have neither nightmares nor misleading visions anymore. Give your Mum my regards and let her know I hope all her knitting projects are progressing nicely. I had a ring she would have liked, left to me by an insane man inside a snitch, but unfortunately I had to put it down. Basilisk venom works wonders at killing things dead. Likewise, goblin forged weaponry. Hermione sends her love. And I love you too, though rather differently, I think. Love, Harry. _

* * *

The last postcard arrived at breakfast and it landed in Ginny’s yogurt. It was a field of red roses and labeled somewhere in Bulgaria called the Rosary. It was mailed from Vratsa in the same country, which was out of sync from how Harry had been writing before and it made Ginny consider it even more closely. It had been hard to get a secure message to her mother, but in the end she just managed to get detention with Professor McGonagall and that served the best purpose.

> _ ‘Dear Ginny, Sorry I missed Bill’s wedding. Sorry you missed Hermione’s. But I guess no one will attend Cedric’s. Is it too soon to ask you to be at mine as the woman in white? Write to me, if you can. I’m at my sister’s house. I miss you. Love, Harry’ _

* * *

[translated from the Bulgarian]  
_ BATTLE AT BRITISH SCHOOL  
_ _ from lMM wire, translated from the French _

_ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the United Kingdom was recently under siege by elite forces from the self-styled ‘Lord Voldemort’ who has been revealed to be Mr. Thomas Riddle, aged 72. Riddle had staged a quiet coup of the British Ministry of Magic and the main Wizarding newspaper, ‘The Daily Prophet’, through deft use of bribery, blackmail, and the Imperius Curse. When attempting to lay siege to the sentient castle of Hogwarts, he was repelled by the castle herself, the staff, many of the older students, and a small band of concerned citizens. _

_ There were fifty-three confirmed casualties, and though names have not yet been released, Riddle was among those confirmed dead. Please send all inquiries about the list of casualties to K. Shacklebolt, Ministry of Magic, London, UK. _

_ Mr. Harry Potter, aged 17 and Miss Hermione Granger, aged 18, two would-be final-year students of the institution in question who had been specially targeted by Riddle are still at large, along with the muggle parents of Hermione Granger. Harry Potter’s muggle relatives were releasing no comments at this time. _

* * *

_ WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT _

_ It is with great pleasure that Gregor and Sofia Krum join with William and Helen Granger to announce that the marriage of their children, Viktor Cyril and Hermione Jean Peveril-Potter has occurred last July 1st at the Krum estate in Bulgaria. The happy couple will continue to reside in Bulgaria for the near future. _

* * *

_ WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT _

_ It is with great pleasure that William and Helen Granger join with Arthur and Magrat Weasley to announce that the marriage of their children, Harry James Granger Peveril Potter and Ginverva Adora has occurred this past July 1st at Gretna Green, Scotland. The happy couple will reside in London for the near future. _

* * *

_ July 15, 199_  
_ _ Malfoy Manor _

_ Madam Potter, _

_ Please excuse the peremptory nature of this letter. I would like to thank you for the great favor you performed for me during the last battle. Though it is not traditional to form nor to carry life debts from acts during war, I find this to be a debt I very much wish to honor. _

_ Please retain this letter as proof of the debt that House Malfoy has to the House of Potter. _

_ If it would be acceptable, I would be honored to call upon you and make your acquaintance at your London address at any time convenient and discuss the initial repayment of the debt owed. _

_ Please also accept my most sincere congratulations on your recent marriage and as well on your forthcoming elevation to the knighthood. No one deserves it more than you and your peers. _

_ Your servant,  
_ _ Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black _

* * *

_ July 15, 199_  
_ _ Malfoy Manor _

_ Madam Hermione Krum, _

_ Please excuse the peremptory nature of this letter. I understand you were the mastermind behind the fall of Tom Riddle. I would like to most sincerely thank you for this great favor you performed for me along with so many others. While it may not have been your explicit intention, you have freed many more people from his tyranny than perhaps you had suspected. _

_ While it is not traditional to hold life debts from times of war, I would like to honor this debt. _

_ Please retain this letter as proof of the debt House Malfoy has that is held by the House of Krum. _

_ If it would be acceptable to you to hear such a proposal, there may be a way to repay the debt entirely. I would be honored to call upon you and make your acquaintance at your estate in Bulgaria at any time convenient to discuss possible repayment of the debt owed. _

_ Please also accept my most sincere congratulations upon your recent marriage and your forthcoming elevation to the knighthood. No one deserves it more than you and your peers. _

_ At your service,  
_ _ Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black _

* * *

_ July 15, 199_  
_ _ Grimmauld Place, London _

_ Dear Hermione, _

_ You wouldn’t believe the letter Ginny just got. Narcissa Malfoy of all people is presenting her with a debt of honor. What a hoot. We’re considering just ignoring it. I mean, why should we care? _

_ Looking forward to seeing you at Sunday dinner at Mum’s house. I hope Mama and Papa can make it this time. I miss being with them, and you and Viktor, too, and I want Gin to get to know them better. _

_ Also, I miss the flowers, Mione. Are you sure it’s illegal to export them? We don’t have much of a back garden, but it would be a much better place with a dozen of those white roses of yours. _

_ Give Viktor my love and tell him he played like crap against the Montrose Minotaurs the other day. He didn’t of course, but someone’s got to keep him on his toes and it’s sure as hell not going to be you who worships the ground he walks on. _

_ Ginny wants to propose a joint honeymoon somewhere interesting, so run it by the big guy and find out when he can take his handfasting leave and how long he’s got. They pay him total crap, so at least he should get some decent time away. _

_ Bulgaria’s a favorite for the finals in the World Cup this year. We’re expecting tickets, just so you know. And it will be wonderful to be with you and Mama and Papa again. And you know, Mum and Dad might quite enjoy themselves there as well, if you can swing it. (We would take care of their transportation.) Work on it, yeah? _

_ Love you oodles and miss you more,  
_ _ Harry _

_ PS - Mum’s birthday is coming up and I have no idea. Throw me a line, here. _

_ PPS - I’m thinking of getting a snake. I promise not to become evil. It’s just a snake. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd thought at first this would just be a little two chapter fic. Then I wrote seven drabbles, each exactly 100 words each that will get us almost all the way back to continuity. Those will be the final chapter. :)


	3. Wherein Time finishes auto-correcting.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Time Lords would tell us, some things about time are changable and others will auto-correct, even if we meddle with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the ending drabbles! Their brevity often requires more study on our part to hear the voice in a dialogue where nothing is labeled. Still. I hope you enjoy them.

“Viktor, had you ever considered living in Britain?”

“I was preparing for it, Myon.”

“What about your contract?”

“It already ended. I could not move right now, but anytime between September and March I could trade. Mm. Myon. You have been happy here. I know this. So, what happened?”

“I got an invitation… to sit my last year at Hogwarts.”

“...but you are a married woman.”

“Yes, there is that. And Harry also was invited back.”

“But he is a married man.”

“They’re offering us suites, or options to be non-residential students.”

“Mm, I think I would strongly prefer that.”

* * *

Hermione handed over the letter to Papa. “Ginny Potter got a similar one. She’s not inclined to answer hers, but I am. Would it be best for you to be here, or should I do this on my own?”

“My-on,” her father-in-law drawled. “Of course I will do this with you. Sofia will be our hostess. Arrange for it at four in the afternoon on a Sunday of your choosing so Viktor may join us. Make sure you give her the floo address in Bulgarian. Now, sit down and tell me everything you know about this Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black.”

* * *

“Viktor! It’s been ages!”

“Ginerva, it has been three days.”

“In which you lost the World Cup, became royalty, changed teams and moved countries.”

“And before that we were travelling together for weeks.”

“I need to greet my husband. Avert your eyes. We’ll catch up just past the gates.”

“Mm. Myon. I did not realize I would see you wearing your school uniform again.”

“Is this going to be a problem, Viktor?”

“...No. How was your meeting with the Queen of England today?”

“Informative. I’m collecting signet rings. And she’d like to meet you. And how  _ are  _ the Ely Inferi?”

* * *

“Who is The Pendragon?”

“Oh, that is so creepy.”

“Shush.”

“Vot the hell is this?”

“I suppose that would be me.”

“...You?  **_You?”_ **

“I know neither your name nor your clan, but you will not treat my lady wife this way. State your business with decorum or disperse immediately.”

“We are the Pendragon Elves, Master Pendragon, and now that the Mistress has returned, we are ready to retake The Seat.”

“I. Um. Uh. Would that... happen to be... a castle... in Wales?”

“Yes, Mistress Pendragon. The Seat is within The Curtain inside The Enclosure.”

“Wow, everything gets capital letters.”

“Shush.”

* * *

“A star shines upon our meeting, Miss Granger.”

…

_ [indeterminate mermish] _

…

“D’you suppose there’s anyone else that needs to greet Her Majesty of Avalon, because I think I saw the carriages arriving and we’ve missed our opportunity for a discreet entrance into the Great Hall.”

“Who else is left?”

“Well I’m starving. Let’s go before we get waylaid.”

“Yes, these late dinners after practice, this is not good.”

“Viktor, you should have said. I’ll make sure the Twins have something waiting for you from now on.”

“That is most thoughtful, Myon. God I never thought I’d be back here.”

* * *

“Okay, there seem to be family crests on the doors. I see they’ve just combined all of ours into one. A green dragon rampant over crossed white roses on a sable field. And the dragon is holding a pot.”

“Could be worse. Ours is now a giant pot on a sable field with a small dragon rampant embossed on the pot.”

“Yep. Mine’s still a tree. What’s with the dragons and the sable fields? And Hermione, did your parents really adopt Harry?”

“Oh, Neville. After we get settled in, let’s talk, okay? We all have news.”

“Is that a snake?”

* * *

“Hello, Luna. How was your summer?”

“Quite pleasant, all things considered. Thank you for asking. And if I may ask about yours? You’re looking quite regal lately.”

“Oh. Um. Yes. Well, it was lovely, thank you. I wondered how The Quibbler was doing.”

“My cousins are running it for now. I’ll join them when I graduate.”

“Right. Good. That’s good. Um, Luna?”

“Yes, Hermione?”

“Would you be my friend?”

“I’d be delighted.”

“Excellent. Come and hang out with us after dinner tonight, alright?”

“Oo, I’ve been wondering what the suites are like.”

“Well, I can’t say ours is typical, but...”

_ *** The End *** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it. I have managed to write a short story and keep it short. I'm so proud of myself I don't have words.
> 
> ::crickets::
> 
> ...That didn't last long, actually. I have words again.

**Author's Note:**

> :)


End file.
